


Moment of Revelation

by Kryptaria, rayvanfox



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/pseuds/Kryptaria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of sweet fluff in celebration of Bucky Barnes' 98th (or 99th) birthday!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moment of Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to our betas: ahappilee, neverwhere, scriptrixlatinae, and zephyrfox!

“The original’s better.”

Steve, who was only sort of following the plot of some wildly popular, modern-day British detective show on Netflix, was surprised to see Bucky looking up from his book to the TV. He was slouching on his half of the L-shaped couch like usual, and Steve had taken up his normal TV watching spot right at the corner with his arms draped over the back on either side. “Are they in love with each other in the original, too?”

Bucky blinked, pushing his long hair out of his face. “Huh?” he asked, glancing at the TV, then back at Steve.

“I dunno.” Steve shrugged as if uninterested, in either the show or the way Bucky’s hair fell right back over his eye when he turned his head. “In the first episode they move in together and go on a romantic date and there’s something about a string of suicides, but mostly they look like they’re falling in love. Is that how it’s supposed to go? I know they can actually do that on TV these days. I just didn’t expect it in a mystery show.”

“I guess they sort of are in the books?” Bucky dropped his current book — a chewed-up paperback with a title font that looked like dripping blood — and got up off the couch. He crossed in front of the TV to search the bookshelves.

Three months ago, if someone had told Steve he’d be living in quiet domesticity with Bucky, he would’ve thought they were nuts. But here they were, both in good health, not recovering from battle to solve the latest international crisis or to repel alien invaders, not even carrying weapons, though there were quite a few stashed around the house. The front porch overlooked a winding driveway and the edge of a forest perfect for hiking. Out back, with the barbecue and patio table, they had a perfect view of a wide, cool lake.

Bucky finally bent down and pulled a hardcover book off the shelf. Then he returned to his spot on one side of the couch. He slouched back against the cushion, right next to the corner, and started flipping pages.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were gunshots in a British museum (though not _the_ British Museum, Steve suspected). The fact that neither of them so much as flinched at the noise was proof of how peaceful these past three months had been.

“‘It was worth a wound,’” Bucky read suddenly, raising his voice to be heard over Sherlock’s yelling, “'it was worth many wounds; to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.’” He lowered the book and tipped his head back to look at Steve. “So yeah, I guess?”

“Hm. Yeah.” Steve reached his hand over the edge of the couch and hooked a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear to see his eyes. Bucky blinked slowly, and Steve pulled his hand away before he was tempted to keep touching. Bucky’s hair was like a magnet for Steve’s hands, but he tried not to overdo it. “Well, these two guys are probably gonna be dating by the next episode.”

“They’re already living together, so why not?” Bucky shrugged again and sank down another inch, pressing against Steve’s arm. He switched the hardcover for his paperback and bent his knees, bracing his bare feet between two cushions.

“I guess that’s how it works these days...” Steve went back to watching the show, even though he’d lost the thread of the story. The actors were beautiful and very good, and the show was shot like a movie. After a few minutes Bucky’s hair started to tickle his wrist, so he smoothed it down out of the way. A few minutes after that, he realized he’d been running his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and his hand froze.

Bucky made a little noise of protest and twitched his head, pressing against Steve’s hand. Looking away from the screen to check Bucky’s face, Steve noticed he hadn’t even looked up from his book. Maybe he was absentmindedly enjoying the touch as much as Steve was. He started up again, gently, not wanting to catch a snag and tug Bucky’s head, but after a few passes he was drawn into the show again and didn’t pay attention to anything but the soothing repetition and the softness of Bucky’s hair.

By the time the next episode automatically came up on the queue, Bucky’s eyes were half-closed, and he hadn’t turned a page for... well, a while, as far as Steve could remember. Steve had his fingers buried in Bucky’s hair, openly combing through the silky strands. There was no way to pass this off as an accidental or even absent-minded touch, but Bucky didn’t seem to care.

An explosion onscreen jolted them both out of the peaceful moment. Bucky’s hand slapped down on the back of the couch, just inches from where an assault rifle hung on strong velcro straps, and Steve sat up, reaching towards the underside of the coffee table, where Bucky had started keeping his throwing knives.

It was Bucky who broke the tense moment first, giving a rough, soft laugh as he flopped down across the couch. “Fucking speakers,” he muttered, sinking down even lower, so he was lying flat on his back, with his head pressed up against Steve’s thigh.

“You all right?” Steve sat back and looked down at the way Bucky’s eyelashes stood out against his cheeks. He cautiously touched Bucky’s hair again, and Bucky made a quiet noise — almost a huff, as if to say _about time_ — and dug in with his feet. A quick push put Bucky’s head _on_ Steve’s leg.

“Fine. You reacted, just like me,” Bucky murmured as his eyes closed.

Steve paused, trying to treat the weight of Bucky’s head as a normal occurrence and not something that was new and strange and taking far too much of his attention. He tried to calm himself a bit with smoothing Bucky’s hair back and letting it flow over his thigh. “Yeah, I did. It’d been so peaceful...”

Bucky answered with another quiet huff of breath. He tossed the book onto the coffee table, then shifted so he could fold his hands behind his neck. His metal fingers pressed uncomfortably into Steve’s leg, though Steve couldn’t bring himself to move. “Those two married yet?”

“Um... I dunno. They keep trying to save each other’s lives, and not talking about things.” Steve scratched Bucky’s scalp lightly as he combed through the hair on the top of Bucky’s head, and very softly asked, “This okay?”

“Mmm.” Bucky sighed, visibly relaxing. “Artist hands.”

Steve slowed his hand but didn’t stop. He wasn’t sure he could at this point; it felt so good to watch Bucky relax under his touch. “I’ll take that as a good thing, then. Just tell me when you want me to stop.”

Bucky snorted and pushed his head up against Steve’s hand. “I’d say when you get up to make breakfast, but you’re stupid enough that you’d actually stay up all night for this.”

Did Bucky just say that he wanted to spend all night having Steve touch him? Steve had to remind himself to breathe. It was hard to believe that Bucky felt so comfortable that he’d fall asleep while Steve was touching him. Or maybe he wouldn’t fall asleep, and then what would they do all night? “I wouldn’t want you sleeping on the couch the whole night. It’s comfortable, but not _that_ comfortable.”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. In fact, he was quiet enough that Steve wondered if he’d fallen asleep, until he softly said, “But you’d be here, too.”

What did _that_ mean? Steve tried to work it out as he very gently tugged through a loose tangle. Absently, he answered, “But that wouldn’t make the couch any more comfortable, would it?”

“Better’n bed alone.”

That made Steve’s hand stop moving through Bucky’s hair for a moment. Bucky wasn’t saying...

No, he wasn’t. And Steve shouldn’t assume. Besides, they’d rented this house sight unseen. In fact, Tony had rented it for them and made sure it was furnished. And though Steve had never in his life looked a gift horse in the mouth, maybe Bucky didn’t like his bed. Maybe they needed to switch. “Is it not comfortable either? You can have mine...”

“You come with it?”

 _Shit._ Maybe he _was_ saying...?

They hadn’t shared a bed since they were kids — back when Steve had been tiny and didn’t take up much room. Not that it would matter in the gigantic bed Steve had in his room now. The idea caused a little shiver to slide down Steve’s spine. “Is that what you want?”

Bucky’s eyelashes fluttered, though his eyes didn’t open. There was something carefully controlled about his voice when he said, “I’m sick of sleeping alone.”

 _Oh._ For a second Steve wondered how often Bucky had slept _not_ alone, but he wasn’t going to ask. “Okay?” Steve focused on his fingers gliding through Bucky’s hair and how soothing it seemed to be for both of them. What Bucky had asked for wasn’t anything new, though. Steve would actually feel good about sharing a bed again — it had been the only good thing about being such a sickly kid. “It _has_ been a long time. For me, at least.”

Bucky opened his eyes and looked up at Steve. “Did you and Natasha...?”

Steve found himself shaking his head before he’d come up with an answer. “I don’t think she...” He was going to say _works that way_ , but he didn’t really know what he meant by that. “The most Nat and I have shared is a kiss, and that was for a mission. Why? Did you?”

Bucky shook his head, ending with a deliberate press against Steve’s hand, and closed his eyes once Steve started petting again. “So who was she?”

“Who was who?” Steve felt a little lost. There was only one ‘she’ in his life besides Nat, and Bucky knew her. But why they’d be talking about Peggy right now, he had no idea.

“Whoever you _did_ sleep with. You said Peggy kissed you before you went into the ice, so...” Bucky looked up at him expectantly. “She’s gotta be modern. Or he.”

“I haven’t slept with any women. I haven’t slept with _anyone_ since you and I used to share your bed.” Steve felt dumb saying it, and the moment it was out of his mouth he heard how it sounded and he felt even worse. Then he worried Bucky would think he was a prude. He focused on combing his fingers through Bucky’s hair instead and tried to ignore the way Bucky was frowning at him.

“Looking like _that?_ Do you... I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to,” Bucky said uncertainly. “That’s a _thing_ now, right? Not liking sex?”

“I dunno. I guess it is. I’ve just... I’ve never done it, so I don’t know if I like it.” Steve wished he could hide his face because he was sure it was bright red, and he didn’t want to see Bucky roll his eyes or something.

Not that he needed to see Bucky’s face, because as soon as Bucky asked, “Do you _want_ to?” Steve recognized his ‘helpful’ tone of voice. It was the same tone of voice that had gotten Steve dates for countless dances, movies, dinners, and other outings — not that anything had ever happened on those dates.

“Bucky, I don’t need your help to find someone to...” Steve shook his head. He had no idea how they’d ended up here. He tried to steer the conversation back on course. “Look, weren’t we talking about...”

 _Oh._ Bucky hadn’t been talking about sleeping in the same bed like they used to. He’d been talking about sleeping _together._ That changed everything and had Steve completely turned around.

“You’d want that? You want... me?” Steve felt like his childhood asthma had come back, it was so hard for him to breathe.

Bucky got a cagey sort of look, as if he were braced to change his answer based on Steve’s moment-by-moment reactions. “Wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed.”

Steve had no idea what his face was doing, but his hand couldn’t stop lightly touching Bucky’s long strands of hair as they fell over his leg. “But that’s not what you meant, is it? Tell me I’m not making shit up, Buck, ’cause I...” The idea that someone as beautiful as Bucky could ever want him was short-circuiting his brain, so he was maybe slower at catching himself than he should have been.

“If...” Bucky shrugged and closed his eyes, though the frown line between his brows betrayed his tension. “What do _you_ want?”

Taking a deep breath, Steve realized he had no idea. He’d never consciously thought past what he had. “This. You. Us. To make you happy.”

Bucky’s frown deepened, and he opened his eyes to look up at Steve. “You always want to make everyone else happy. What about you?”

He didn’t get it. After all this time, he still didn’t get it. “Seeing _you_ happy is the highlight of my day, Buck. Of my damned _life._ I thought I’d lost you forever and it almost killed me. Jesus, just waking up knowing you’re safe and nearby...” Steve shrugged and cleared his throat before the lump in it could lodge there fully.

Even now, months after Bucky had regained his memory — his identity — hints of the Winter Soldier showed through. He sat up and twisted around so fast, Steve almost couldn’t follow. Instinctively he tensed up, but all Bucky did was take hold of his shoulders and duck to catch his eye. “I’m here, Steve. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay.” Steve nodded and cleared his throat again. “I mean, I know, it’s just...” Bucky’s hands on him felt so good he closed his eyes briefly to feel it better. The differences in temperature and hardness were something he could focus on as he found breath to say something he hadn’t known he wanted. “Maybe if you were in my bed when I woke up, I’d know that right away.”

Bucky’s head tipped slightly, and one corner of his mouth twitched up. “You remember telling me about that time Peggy asked if you knew how to talk to women?”

Steve huffed, half-amused, half-annoyed. Bucky never missed a chance to tease him. Just because he didn’t know how to get women in his bed didn’t mean he didn’t want Bucky there. “Yeah, all right. You knew that though. It’s not news.”

Bucky’s smile grew a notch. “You’re pretty lousy with men, too.”

It took five heartbeats and two blinks before Steve caught up. He gave Bucky a flat stare and said, “Yeah well, you too, punk.”

Bucky laughed and let go of one shoulder so he could turn and get up off the couch. “Come on, Steve. You’ve got about ten hours before the sun comes up. That enough time to figure this all out?”

“Figure what out?” Steve asked as he stood up to take Bucky’s hand before he got out of reach. “That you’re a lazy bum and are gonna make me do all the work? I knew that eighty years ago.”

“ _You_ do all the work?” Bucky teased. “You start trouble. I finish it — and save your ass in the process. That’s how this works.”

That’s how it _used_ to work, but the idea that Bucky was thinking in those terms again made Steve feel a rush of happiness. He grinned like a fool as he stepped close to say, “Then you can save my ass all night, if it’ll make you happy.”

Even though Steve was two inches taller now, Bucky threw an arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him off-balance. He stumbled up against Bucky’s side, and Bucky braced him with a hand on his chest. “Yeah? Let’s do that.”

Steve had no idea what Bucky had in mind, but he was pretty damned sure he was going to like it. He caught his breath and reached up to brush Bucky’s hair out of his eyes. “As long as I can play with your hair, I’m in.”


End file.
